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Thursday, June 16, 2011

I can't believe it's been more than a month since my last post. When I started this blog, I vowed to myself that I'd keep regular postings. However, life doesn't always go as we plan. This past month has really taken me by surprise and not in a good way.

As a writer, I have to write down everything going on in my life. If I'm upset or stressed, writing helps me to relax. I've come to more than one resolution by getting it all down in black and white. And it lets me forever immortalize a memory I never want to forget. This habit developed in my early teens.

Dozens of legal pads and composition books are filled with random thoughts and blurbs. You never know when some real life event may become fictionalized into something I'm working on, hence the origin of my short story, Grandmother's Tree.

I've said all that to say this. Writing a blog is totally different from writing a novel or journaling your thoughts. A blog is made public for everyone to critique, take to heart, completely ignore or forward to others. Fiction can also be viewed in the same respect but the reader doesn't know what views and feelings are that of the author or those of the characters. And a journal is completely veiled in privacy.

I thought long and hard about sharing my personal crisis with all of you, but I'm not that brave yet. Instead I've put all of my energy into my second novel for the last five weeks. So far, I've got eleven chapters done, and even I can't wait to see what happens next!

I know I still have to get busy on finding a publisher for the first one, but with the second one burning a hole inside me, I've got to get it written down. If you don't hear from me again, it's because the writing has taken over. However, I'm going to try and find a balance and keep posting.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

On Mother's Day, it gives us a chance to spend with our children. I always reflect on the job I've done with my girls and look ahead to the job still left to do.

Mother's Day also gets me thinking about my own mom. We've had our ups and downs, but it's all in the past. My mom happens to be the bravest woman I know. You see, she's fighting breast cancer. And for the most part save one sister, she's fighting it alone. Her five kids are scattered along the East Coast with me being the farthest away.

Mom comes from a family of eleven, and she had us five kids. Recently divorced, she's not used to being on her own. Never mind being away from everyone she loves. This past year has been hard on her, and she's impressed me by pulling herself up and starting over.

When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I thought it would do her in. I was wrong. I've never seen such a positive attitude in all my life. When her port threw a clot, I wondered if she'd begin to sway. Again, her resolve only strengthened.

Now into her third round of Chemo, she's had a few more setbacks, but her spirit is still strong. I'm proud of my mom. I know she's going to pull through this. She needs all of our prayers and support. Most of all I want her to know, she's always in my thoughts and never leaves my heart. She's my mom, and nothing will ever change that.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

My daughter had an assignment in Language Arts this week. Her topic was to write a poem about Love. She struggled with this assignment but ultimately wrote something so beautiful. She's given me permission to share it. It also received 9's from the judges in her class competition and a fellow student was moved to tears. I am so proud to call her my daughter.

Picture by K. Thorpe

Grampa

Love is something you cannot measure,

But it is something I always treasure.

Thinking of my Grampa in his favorite chair,

Or with a baseball cap on to hide missing hair.

He'd read my favorite book 'til we started to doze.

Time for TV and our afternoon shows.

I learned to dive in my Grampa's pool.

At four year's old, I thought I was cool.

No on ever loved food more.
At Grampa's house it was snacks galore.

Disney World was favorite spot.
We'd be there rain or shine, cold or hot.

Plays, chorus, or soccer he was always there.
Though his seat is empty I still imagine him here.

Love is like the sun, it'll always shine.
In my memories, he'll always be mine.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Being away from my writing for any length of time sends me into withdrawals. Whether it's working on my book or just posting a blog, I need to be putting my thoughts down. This post is going to be a short one, but I felt I needed to get one out there.

Those of you who've seen my tweets or are my Facebook friend know my girls have had Strep Throat. When you're kids are sick, everything else goes by the wayside. Having both of them home at the same time hasn't happened since they were babies. And I hope it doesn't happen again for a very long time.

Nothing has gotten done around my house in almost a week. However, it's the sleepless nights I can do without. Whenever my youngest is sick, these are always a guarantee. She's a chronic asthmatic, and we've had countless attacks this week. Come to find out, the culprit this time has been her antibiotic. She's had an allergic reaction to it, and her old standby has been called in.

Here's hoping to a better night tonight and sleep for both of us. The poor baby is running on empty, and so am I.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

After talking to my sister, I knew I had no other choice but to share it with all of you. As a writer with a pretty good imagination, even I couldn't make up a scene this bizarre.I found myself laughing instead of offering her the support I knew she needed as she continued to tell me about her day.

She’s the Assistant Manager of a national establishment.This means she’s learned to deal with all kinds.However, Thursday’s series of events took top billing on her list.

It started out as normal as any other day until one customer came up to the drive-thru and retrieved his order only to pull forward a few feet and shout back, “By the way, I hit your wall.”My sister looked out the window at his truck and then back down the drive-thru.It was littered with cinder blocks.

She was shocked by the arrogance of the man who drove off.He’d left her with no other option but to call the police, and pick up the blocks herself.A traffic jam was now forming.

As she crossed through the dining room, she could smell smoke.Quickly looking around it was easy to locate the culprit.A dingy looking man had casually settled himself down and lit up a cigarette.He’d never approached the counter to order anything.He just sat there puffing away.What the #$@% ? She was thinking as she approached him.

She politely told the man there was no smoking inside the building.He looked quite confused and wanted to know, “Since when?”With her voice a few octaves higher than normal she explained, “Smoking was banned about a decade ago.” Stoner guy gave her one long last look before he left as quietly as he came in.

She finally set about to move the cinder blocks out of the way all by herself.She was determined to get back to business as usual.In doing so, a customer rolls in and asks her what’s happened.When she explains, he tells her he’s seen the exact truck a couple miles down the road with two blown tires.

She hurries in to call the police with the new information.Her head is spinning with the day she’s having. Just when she thinks it can’t get any worse, in walks two guys with a checklist. They explain it’s time for her annual inspection of equipment.

Now she begins to wonder if she’s getting Punked.No, these guys are real, and she needs to show them each piece of equipment.With her nerves frazzled already, it takes every ounce of patience she can muster to be civil.

Close on their heels is the company’s own insurance agent.I guess they figure it’s the two birds, one stone theory.When the insurance agent hears about the accident, of course he needs to go inspect the damage. Isn’t having my sister count the bricks going a little bit far?

Upon their return back inside, the police have now joined the party.They inform her the suspect’s vehicle was eventually abandoned.It’s hard to drive for too long with two flat tires.He was eventually apprehended.My sister’s asked to give her own statement, and she’s handed an accident report.It’s now the cop's turn to go visit the scene of the crime.When he returns, he asks my sister if she’s filled out the report yet.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”She points to the three guests behind the counter and asks if she can drop it off tomorrow.The officer smiles and asks her who moved all the blocks.She tells him she did, all twenty of them.He’s impressed and says tomorrow will be soon enough.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

My daughters are fourth generation vampire fans. They've inherited their love of vampires from me, and I inherited it from my grandmother. She got me hooked on vampires before they were pulsing in the mind of every tween, teenager, and young-at-heart closet watcher who won't admit they're a fan was even paying attention.

On my overnights to Grandma's I would snuggle up next to her and watch the old black and white classics with Vincent Price and get scared out of my mind. I also loved every minute of it. Those are memories I will treasure forever.

Now it's my turn, and I get to make the memories with my daughters. Every Thursday night, the computer is off, the phones are silenced, and the junk food comes out. It's become our Girl's Night.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

My plan when I got home tonight was to fry up some chicken and homemade french fries, return some emails, and get some writing done. It was a good plan, one I was looking forward to. However for the fifth night in a row, the writing wasn't going to happen.

When you have kids, you're life is no longer your own. Tonight my seventh grader was staying at school late to finish her video project. She calls as I'm pulling into my driveway to see if I'm busy and tells me she could use some advice on editing and music. Since the project is due tomorrow, I do the only thing any other parent would do. I drop everything without giving it a second thought, and go help her finish her project.

On the way to her school, I think to myself, how old will she be before I stop dropping everything every time she calls for help? Then I smile to myself as the answer comes to me. She'll never be too old. And I'll never be too busy to drop everything every time she needs me.
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